This is a work of
fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or
incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living
or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. No part of this
eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any
information storage and retrieval system, without written permission
from the author.

This book is written for all the past and present small town kids
in the country. It’s for the boys with the sunburnt necks who raise
hell on Friday. It’s to the red dirt girls who stole our hearts on
Saturday. It’s to the Southern mommas who drag their boys to church
on Sunday. It’s to the hick-town dads who are constantly missing
cans of beer and pinches of dip every day. Finally, it’s an ode to
the nights we’ll never remember with friends we’ll never forget.

This book wouldn’t have been possible if I didn’t have a life
that’s inspired it.

Firstly, my parents.

My mother whose endless love and support have motivated me to be
more.

My dad who taught me my work ethic and common sense values.

My best friend, Dalton, who’s helped me make the worst decisions
of my life and inspired the character Cameron (although Dalton is far
less successful with the ladies).

To my other best friend Jace whose wild antics and good nature was
the basis for Dixon (also thank you to my cousin for Kelsey for
putting up with him all these years).

To Mrs. Watson, my 6th
grade English teacher who’s always believed in me and helped with
this book.

To my two fantastic brothers, wild friends and huge family, who’ve
all contributed through experiences they’ve shared with me.

Finally – to McKinley Sanders, Thaddeus Couchman and Nicholas
Esposito. Three of my best friends in the service and the first
readers who helped me perfect this book.

I hope you all enjoy the ride as much as I have.

FOREWORD

I set out to write a
book that captured the essence of a small town Southern community.
The characters portrayed in this series are based on various people
in my life whether it be past or present. To maintain authenticity
(also, because I refuse to pander nor will I let myself ‘preach’
to the reader), I created accurate dialogue that could be reasonably
expected from individuals in the Deep South that were of similar
circumstance. There is no political correctness. There are no
clear-cut relationship issues. Some situations do not work out how
you would anticipate. Love does not always conquer and hate does not
always destroy. Nor will I create a character that you unabashedly
love or hate. Nobody is perfect. We are all flawed and so my
characters will be, too.

- B

INTRODUCTION

The town of High Creek
in Southeast Texas is nestled in the middle of a remote wooded area
with a population of roughly 2,400. Most of the town folk have been
rooted there for generations. In High Creek, everybody knew everybody
and treated them like family. The town’s most notable features were
a large football field for the high school, a very popular and famous
dance hall called The Rowdy Cowboy, and a Walmart which was recently
finished. Interstate 21 ran right through the middle of town and
brought the few out-of-towners to Ronnie’s Diner and the town’s
park. When the local teenagers weren’t causing trouble at The Rowdy
Cowboy they would spend most of their time catching catfish and
sneaking beer on Hammond Creek.

The town was getting
more popular each year for being the location of the Stonebrook
County Cook-Offs. The Cook-Off was a huge gathering for locals to
sell their crafts, take their kids on the carnival rides and sample
‘exotic’ food. More importantly, it was a showdown of South
Texas’ best cooks competing for the grand prize at the cook-off, a
check for $35,000 and a new Gator 4x4. Teams of professionals, blue
class families and companies having a social outing from all over
Texas would camp out in the field and cook for three days. Even
though this was a battle of the best bar-be-cue, everyone knew that
it was just a gathering of Texans to drink all day and tell stories
all night to the sound of red dirt music. Of course, the cooks were
always careful to never divulge their secret recipes.

Life for Ryan Hightower
and Titus Keller had been a routine for as long as they could
remember. But, a series of events would tie their lives together in
ways they couldn’t have imagined. Together, they would learn to
mourn, forgive, grow and experience life in a way they hadn’t
before. The differences felt between a Texas Department of Public
Safety law enforcement officer and a small town high school student
would ultimately begin a path of redemption for them both.

Ryan Hightower was a
Texas State Trooper in his early 30s. Ryan was assigned to Stonebrook
County which was both good and bad for him. The good part was that
this is where he grew up as well as where all his family and friends
still lived. The Stonebrook County Sheriff’s Office and High Creek
Police Department had a lot of ground to cover with few officers so
he was relied upon for a lot of regular police calls instead of being
a just a ‘highway warrior’. His parents lived down the road from
him in a large country-style home afforded by his father’s
retirement as Stonebrook County Sheriff and his mother selling her
clothing store. Ryan had three blood uncles and three blood aunts who
were in the Stonebrook County area, which led to a lot of barbecues
and pool parties. Ryan had gone to state police after his enlistment
with the Army as an 11B infantryman. During his term, he had spent
several combat tours down range in various FOBs and had extensive
combat experience. The memories of his enlistment had followed him
long after he received his separation papers.

Titus Keller was a
student at High Creek High School finishing his last few days out as
a Junior before Summer break. His toned muscles, short blonde hair
and attractive features made him a well-liked person, especially
among the high school girls. He was a defensive end on the football
team, but most of his time went to hanging out with his friends as
well as his long term girlfriend, Alexis Lamb, who was also the
Sheriff’s daughter. His mother was a pleasantly plump woman who
worked as a family practitioner at the local hospital. Lydia Keller
had raised her son to be a Southern gentleman. She was the strongest
person that Titus knew. Of course, she had no choice but to settle
down for her boy’s sake. His father was a deadbeat scumbag who came
in and out of Titus’ life throughout his childhood. Titus’
father, Axel Lyons, always had trouble with authority which netted
him a rap sheet as long as Interstate 21.

Yet, for a reason even
he couldn’t explain, he still longed for the day his dad would come
to stay in his life.

Chapter One

Highway 21 in High Creek, Texas

Saturday Morning

6:30 A.M.

‘Every Scar Has A Story’

The feelings that trail
the loss of a person in your life are complex. You cannot discern if
it is the person you miss or the past in general. When you remember
the person, you’re really remembering that entire chunk of your
history – the circumstances will shape the impact they leave in
your heart. Often times when you think you miss an individual, you
may just be missing those moments in time.

Titus Keller was only
seventeen years old when he was riding with his mom to the outskirts
of High Creek to identify his father’s body.

At the time, Titus
couldn’t quite remember the last time he had seen his father. He
figured it must had been at his thirteenth birthday party when his
dad barreled into the house drunk as a skunk. He swung at another
parent who, quite embarrassingly, put him on his ass while Titus’
mother, Lydia Keller, called the police. Titus wasn’t feeling all
that ashamed as he watched his father being put in handcuffs in front
of all of his friends and family. If he was being honest with
himself, he was actually pretty happy that his dad had showed up at
all.

Now here he was,
receiving news that his estranged father had taken his last breath.
The young Texas State Trooper told them it appeared to be a suicide.
A loaded pistol was found in Axel’s hand. As Lydia took a moment to
collect her thoughts, the State Trooper took Titus aside.

For a reason that Titus
couldn’t pin down, he took a second to study this Trooper. He
looked like he was in his mid-20s. He had short, jet-black hair in a
crew cut. His jaw was wide, as Titus imagined came standard for cops
and soldiers. On the ends of the Trooper’s jaw was that bone that
flexed every time he ground his teeth. It almost created a dimple
near his temple.

The Trooper’s eyes
were piercing blue and shaded with bushy eyebrows. Interestingly, the
man’s eyelashes themselves were so dark that it looked like he had
some kind of makeup on them. It was distinctive.

Finally, Titus took
note of the man’s stature. He wasn’t wide or stacked but the
Trooper was definitely muscled. His biceps stretched the short
sleeves of his uniform and dark shadows lined his forearms where the
muscles caved out.

Titus didn’t
understand the feeling of comfort that came from talking to this
Trooper who was not tremendously far from his age but had a hardened
face, searing eyes and a seemingly permanent facial expression that
must be taught in the police academy. He felt… safe. Almost as if
the officer had all the answers that Titus wanted.

For a few minutes, the
Trooper let Titus vent his thoughts but, even seeing his father dead,
he wasn’t an emotional kind of guy. Although, he did feel a twinge
of comfort from the caring State Trooper.

“I… don’t know
what to feel… what to say,” Titus sat on the paved edge of the
highway. His arms were crossed and resting on his kneecaps. He looked
to his right past the dozens of emergency vehicles and watched
traffic zoom towards him.

As he looked back
forward where his father’s truck was in the grassy shoulder, he
noticed that the Trooper was sitting next to him.

“It’s okay,” said
the Trooper, “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to think. Heck, it’s
okay to laugh. Any type of response is valid. I’ve delivered news
like this a hundred times and there’s not any two reactions that
are the same. You’re allowed to take this in how you want. What’s
your name?”

“Titus,” he
mumbled. He was vaguely listening to the Trooper out of respect. But,
he was more consumed in his own world of remorse and self-pity.

“Titus, I’m Trooper
Hightower, you can call me Ryan.”

Titus just nodded, the
last sentence having flew right over his head.

His mother returned so
Titus stood up and turned to her. She ran to him and threw her arms
around Titus, wrapping him in a hug. He was fairly confident that it
was more for her than it was for him.

Trooper Hightower gave
a small smile and nod at Titus from behind his mother then
disappeared among the crowd of emergency workers.

While Titus softly
wiped away a tear from his mothers eyes, another officer came up to
reveal a final detail. It seemed that Axel had parked his truck right
before the city limit sign and shot himself. He hadn’t left a note
or anything of interest.

All he left was a hole
in a teenage boy’s heart that was about a mile wide.

Keller
Residence

Sunday
Morning

8:30
A.M.

Lydia Keller didn’t
cry after that. Neither did Titus… at least not in front of his
mother. She hadn’t had a real conversation with Axel Lyons since he
had left their home for good. She resented his truly random and
unwanted appearances in Titus’ life. Understandably, his visits
would always end up with a fuming Lydia and an upset Titus. Each
time, he would swear to Titus that he was staying for good and going
to try to be a part of Titus’ life. Of course, that was a promise
he never kept.

The next day was a
flurry of people coming to visit the Keller home, offering their
condolences and struggling to find something nice to say about the
late Axel Harp Lyons. Titus was pretty stoked that he got to stay
home from school, but he felt uncomfortable every time one of the
countless middle-aged High Creek mothers wrapped him in a bear hug
and cried in his ear.

At around four in the
afternoon, with a group from the First Baptist Church in his living
room, Titus went out to the front porch and stretched out his arms
ferociously. Between the sun and solitude, he felt at peace.

Titus turned and strode
to one of the four wooden lawn chairs by the door. He slowly, yet
dramatically, lowered himself into the chair as if he was an old man
compensating for a faulty back. He furrowed his brows as the sun
reflected off the windshield of his parked truck straight into his
eyes. He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of freshly cut grass and
oak burning from the neighbor’s brush fire. His hand moved to the
front door to make sure it was fully closed. He was reassured that he
wouldn’t be suddenly bothered so Titus slid out a small tin can
from his jeans pocket, withdrew a pinch of tobacco and stowed it in
his bottom lip. He gripped the arm rests on the chair, squeezing and
releasing the stiff, old wood as if it were a stress ball.

Music began to
spontaneously fill the quiet, sunny afternoon.

…trying to
remember all those crazy nights we had, now I’m empty but I’m not
sad, talking about the good times and drinkin’ down the bad…

Titus heard the Texas
Country song blaring through open windows as a red Chevrolet
Silverado tore across Interstate 21 and onto Greenland Road, stopping
in front of the house.

The loud diesel engine
cut off and the door swung wide open. A pair of dirty, old cowboy
boots appeared from the cab of the truck then hit the ground attached
to a dirty pair of jeans and a crooked smile. Titus grinned and got
up as he saw his best friend Cameron stride up to the front yard
gate. Cameron was a tall, muscular boy with short black hair and
tanned skin. He had sharp features and jaw structure which made him
popular with women. He always dressed in worn-out blue jeans and
faded shirts with his favorite black Costa ball cap.

Titus nodded, “Shit
happens, man, I wasn’t really close to him anyways.”

“Yeah, well, I’m
ready to step in as your new father an’ I’ll be a real good man
to ya’ momma,” Cameron offered with a smile before he spit a long
stream of brown tobacco-filled saliva onto the driveway.

“Goddamn! Too soon,
dick,” Titus replied with a smirk.

“Can I bum a dip off
of ya’, bud?” asked Cameron as he pulled an empty small tin can
out of his back pocket, “I just took my last pinch and I forgot to
go to the store.”

“Nope, but I’ll
walk with you to the gas station to get some,” replied Titus.

“Cheap bastard,”
scowled Cameron as he turned to start walking down Greenland Road
with Titus following.

They walked back down
Greenland towards Interstate 21 with the smell of hot asphalt
lingering in the air. The gas station was on the intersection of both
roads just fifty feet down from Titus’ house. They rounded the
corner of the building and went through the front doors that faced
the Interstate.

“What’s up,
fellas?” asked Mark, the cashier who graduated high school about
four years prior.

“Yo, Mark, can I get
a can of Grizzly Wintergreen?” asked Cameron as he rested his
elbows on the counter.

“For sure,” replied
Mark, his long hair flying when he turned to the tobacco rack and
searched for the can.

Titus walked to the
back of the store and was looking at energy drinks when he felt his
pocket vibrate. He took out his phone and saw that his mom was
calling.

“Shit,” he
muttered.

He answered the call.

“Where are you?”
his mother asked instantly.

“At the gas station,”
Titus replied.

“With who?” asked
his mother, concern evident in her voice.

“Cam,” said Titus
as he opened a glass door and picked out a sugar free energy drink.

“When are you coming
back?” questioned his mom.

“Jesus, like five
minutes, mom, chill,” Titus shot back.

“Don’t tell me to
chill, Titus Harp Keller, I deserve to know where you are at all
times,” came a stern reply.

“Mom, I will be back
in five minutes,” Titus stated as he walked to the cashier.

“Do you need me to
pick you boys up?”

Titus gave a sharp
laugh, “No, mom, it’s fine, we’ll be just a few minutes.”

“Okay, Titus, I love
you.”

“Love you too, mom.”
Then he hung up the phone and shoved it into his jeans. He rounded
the last aisle and saw Cam was still talking to the cashier so he
strode up next to him and set the energy drink out with a few dollars
to pay.

“Cool, be careful,
TABC are going to be swarming that shit this year,” offered Mark.
He brushed his long hair out of his face and eyed both the boys.

“That’s what they
say every year,” laughed Cameron.

There were always
rumors that the Texas Alcohol Bureau Commission was going to send
undercover agents to the Cook-Off to bust underage drinking. Each
year the rumors seemed more plausible as the Stonebrook County Fair
has started drawing thousands from around the state each year.

“What about you,
Keller?” Mark asked as he cut his eyes to Titus.

“I’ll probably be
the one carrying Cam at the end of the night,” grunted Titus as he
began to walk out the front doors. He stopped as soon as he emerged
outside when he heard a piercing yelp from a police siren. He turned
to see a Texas State Trooper cruiser tearing down the highway with
the lights flashing. It seemed like the Troopers out here were always
keeping themselves busy.

He wondered if that was
the same Trooper who had comforted him during his dad’s suicide. He
wished he had remembered the name of that Trooper who was so nice to
him.

They arrived back at
the house shortly after to see a familiar black Ford Taurus in the
driveway and all of the church folk gone.

“Oh, shit,” said
Titus quietly as he saw his girlfriend hurry out of the house, her
eyes trained on Titus and followed by Ms. Keller

“Trip me,”
whispered Titus to Cameron.

“What the fuck?”
laughed Cameron as he turned to Titus.

“Fuck it,” hissed
Titus. He tried to be quick enough to confuse anybody watching as to
what he was doing. He took a very short step to allow his opposite
foot to collide with the other, causing him to roll forward onto the
sidewalk.

As he fell, he turned
and quickly swiped the dip out of his bottom lip and wiped it on the
ground as he pushed himself up. All this because he knew his mother
would kill him for dipping.

“Oh my God!” gasped
Alexis Lamb who quickly scurried through the small picket fence gate
and ran to her boyfriend, “Are you okay?”

“Nope, call the
paramedics, he broke his uterus,” said Cameron as he walked past
Alexis towards Titus’ mom. Cameron softened his look as he
approached Lydia Keller, offered his condolences and wrapped her in a
big hug.

Alexis walked around
Titus, inspecting him for damage and then hugged him tightly.

“I am so sorry to
hear about your dad, babe,” she said softly and then pulled away,
looking into his eyes, “but, Ty, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I know, but it’s
still your father!” exclaimed Alexis with concern bulging in her
blue eyes, “You must upset to some degree, babe.”

“I mean, I guess I
am, I just don’t feel like talking about it,” shrugged Titus as
he moved his eyes to the ground, shoving his hands in his jeans.

“Titus Hammond
Keller, I wish you would stop trying to hide your emotions from me,”
conveyed Alexis as she put her hands on Titus’ broad shoulders. He
noticed that when she was passionate her Texan accent would come out
smooth as molasses. Usually, he liked it but he was in some kind of
mood today.

“I’m not hiding
shit, I just don’t want to talk about it,” retorted Titus.

“Wow, sorry for
prying, I just care about you…” Alexis’ eyes softened and Titus
could see that he had hurt her.

“Look, I’m sorry, I
just-..”

..she don’t talk
about religion, she talks about the Stones, oh she’s every girl
I’ve every known…

Titus was interrupted
as loud Texas Country music once again blared out of open windows as
a silver Dodge Ram pickup marked with rusted pock marks came roaring
off the Interstate. The beat-up truck screeched up beside Titus on
the sidewalk and filled the air with diesel fumes. The engine cut
off.

Dixon hopped out of the
driver’s seat and stretched out. He was a tall, lanky guy with
shaggy brown hair that had a farmer’s tan and always wore muscle
shirts and jeans. The passenger side door opened up and Todd jumped
out of the lifted truck, waddling over to Titus, his big beer belly
wiggling.

Todd was pretty fat and
fairly short, had round facial features and he kept his brown hair
cut close to his head. He was always wearing a backwards baseball cap
with collared shirts, jeans and very clean cowboy boots.

“Bro, we came as soon
as we heard,” grimaced Todd, as he offered his meaty hand to Titus
who took it and pulled Todd in for a big hug.

“Yessiree, but we
were setting trot lines on Hammond Creek and the only thing we caught
was a buzz.” Dixon let out a very extravagant belch.

“Real nice,” Alexis
scowled as she waved the sour fumes away from her face.

Dixon winked and gave
Alexis a quick hug and then went over to Ms. Keller.

“A couple of turtles
snagged on the lines… lotta good that does us. Check ‘em out,”
beckoned Todd. He went to the back of the truck and picked up a large
turtle, holding it against his wide belly.

Alexis walked over and
inspected the turtle as Titus turned and returned to the front lawn
where his mother, Cameron and Dixon were talking. The conversation
stopped as Titus walked up and his mother gave him a small smile.

“Is everyone staying
for dinner, honey?” she asked.

“Naw, unfortunately,
there’s a show tonight at The Rowdy Cowboy,” grinned Cameron.

The Rowdy Cowboy was a
large dance hall and bar that was adjacent to the gas station and
extended to behind the Keller residence. It had both large indoor and
outdoor areas for concerts and dancing as well as around five staffed
bar areas scattered around it. It was a very popular location on the
weekends but made it quite hard to sleep for the Kellers.

“That does sound
nice, momma, we’ll do that after we go get our dancing clothes on,”
Cameron replied. Titus winced as Cameron called his mom “momma”
as he always does. It wasn’t the fact that Cam called her his mom.
With as much time as Cam spent over at their house growing up, she
basically was a mother to him. Rather, it just felt like a weird word
to Titus.

“Alright, y’all get
dressed up and I’ll put supper on the stove,” smiled Ms. Keller
as she turned and walked back inside. It had always felt nice to her
to have company to cook for. She couldn’t stand silence very much.
She took one more look at the group of teenagers in her yard and then
walked inside.

Chapter Two

Ronnie’s Diner

Same Day

9:30 A.M.

‘Love And A .45’

Ryan Hightower rubbed
his temples gently. With each rotation of his fingers, the splitting
migraine would temporarily lose part of its intensity. But, no matter
how much he tried, it was still pulsing through his head.

He picked up his mug of
coffee and brought the strong, bitter liquid to his lips slowly. He
set the mug back down on the counter and looked over his shoulder
through the diner’s windows. He saw two Sheriff’s Office vehicles
pulling into the parking lot, an unmarked grey Chevrolet Tahoe and a
marked Ford Crown Victoria.

Ryan sighed and turned
back to the counter. He rested his elbows on it, holding his mug with
one hand and picking up a newspaper with the other.

Ding,
ding.

Ryan heard the glass
doors open behind him and then a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He
took a second to turn his grimace into a forced smile and then turned
to face Sheriff Lamb and Sergeant Schwarz.

Sheriff Lamb was fat
and obnoxious. His big beer belly was about as prominent as the aged
lines creasing his face. With hair as white as snow and a full snowy
beard to match, he was the poster child for a hick town Sheriff.

Sergeant Schwarz was a
tall, muscled man of middle age. He had joined the Sheriff’s Office
shortly after getting out of the Marines. He had a salt-and-pepper
grunt cut. Although he was the only Sheriff’s patrolman without
facial hair, he fit in with the law enforcement community better than
most officers of rank. He had also been partial to Ryan, who was also
a veteran, so they had always been close.

“Hmph,” retorted
Sheriff Lamb as he nodded, “Well, I just think they should be more
careful.”

Ryan’s lips creased
as he stood up and unfolded a few dollars, placing them on the
counter and smiling at the waitress. He picked up his hat and nodded
at Sheriff Lamb and Schwarz.

“I’m going to head
out to the hospital and see I can get a statement from the passenger
if he’s stable,” explained Ryan as he turned the volume up on his
Motorola radio.

“Roger that, have a
good one, Trooper,” wave Sheriff Lamb as he turned to talk to a
couple of locals who had walked up to him.

Ryan walked out to his
black and white Dodge Charger cruiser. He unlocked the door and
slipped inside, picking up his car radio mic and speaking into it.

“Dispatch, 341,” he
called.

“Go, 341,” replied
dispatch, acknowledging his incoming transmission.

“Copy, I’ll be
10-8, in service, show me en route to the hospital to get a statement
from the passenger of the one vehicle accident,” spoke Hightower
into the car mic.

“341, good copy,”
came the reply.

Ryan’s phone rang and
he picked it up, looking at the screen.

It was Trooper
Reynolds, the other Trooper on this shift.

“Yo,” Ryan spoke
into the phone.

“Hey, bud, I’m
already at the hospital, I’ll get the statement for you,” Trooper
Howard reported.

“What? I thought you
were taking radar on 21?” inquired Ryan.

“Figured I’d give
you a hand,” Trooper Howard responded quickly.

“Look, I appreciate
it, but I know what this is about and I’m fine, man,” grumbled
Ryan.

“I’m not trying to
baby you, Ryan, I’m just giving you a hand. Just relax and go watch
a stop sign,” laughed Howard.

“Roger that, I
appreciate it, man.”

Ryan put the phone down
and turned to his MDC, a mobile computer in his cruiser. He began to
click through his emails.

He began to read a
volunteer request email put out by the local VA lodge looking for a
law enforcement escort for a funeral. The deceased was a kid from
Tacoma Hills that joined the Marines. Apparently, he had gotten hit
by mortar fire while on patrol.

Ryan bit his lip and
deleted the email. He had done enough escorts for one life. He began
to read the other emails but zoned out slowly and stared straight
through the computer as the windows around him got smaller. He felt a
bead of sweat falling down his face as the temperature rose suddenly.
Ryan looked up and saw he wasn’t at the diner.

He was in a Humvee in
Iraq.

“Hammer, rotate to
6, check on Charlie truck!” yelled the convoy commander through his
headset.

Ryan tried to look
at the side view mirrors but they were too skewed. There was no way
he could see what was going on behind them.

From how his best
friend Hammer was making it sound, shit was getting real.

The convoy commander
glances at Hammer then pushes his mic closer to his mouth.

Ryan tried to hear
the transmission but it came out jumbled, so he pressed his headset
against his ears.

“341, 341, how do you
copy?” the radio crackled again, snapping Ryan back to reality.

He picked up the car
mic, “Go for 341.”

“Copy, can I have you
en route to the Walmart parking lot for a 10-71, 10-93, reports of
assault in progress and assist county?”

“10-4, I’ll be five
minutes out.”

“Copy that, 341.”

Ryan shifted the car in
reverse and sped down the interstate, engaging his lights to get
around traffic on the four lane highway. He got stuck behind a pickup
truck that was ambling along in one lane and a big rig that was going
just as slow in the other. He hit his siren a couple of times. The
driver of the pickup jerked his head and looked in the mirror before
slowing down to get behind the big rig.

He considered giving
the driver a one fingered salute but decided against it.

Ryan sped around,
passed the high school football field and floored it through the
middle of town.

“Dispatch, Adam 23,
10-23, we’re on scene, it’s going to be two males and a female,
it appears that the two males are attacking the female, show us on
approach,” a voice cackled on the radio.

Hightower pulled into
the nearest parking lot entrance and immediately saw the flashing
lights of the city police car that was on scene. Two of the officers
were wrestling one of the men to the ground while the second male
suspect began advancing towards the female again, who was crying and
holding her hands up in front of her face.

Hightower drove through
the parking lot and sped around the city cruiser, stopping just
inches from the second suspect who turned and jumped back to avoid
being hit.

Hightower put the car
in the park and jumped out, one hand on his taser and his other
outstretched towards the man.

“Get on the fuckin’
ground!” he ordered the man.

“I ain’t done
shit!” shouted the suspect as he raised his fists towards the
Trooper.

Then, suddenly, he
turned swiftly and reared back to swing at the female behind him.

Ryan bum rushed the man
and wrapped his arms around him as he put all of his force into
driving the suspect into the ground.

The suspect let out a
yell as Hightower used all of his strength to roll the man over and
put all of his weight on him.

Several more sirens
wavered as the city and county cruisers approached the scene.

Deputies rushed out and
several of them assisted Hightower in pulling the man’s hands
behind his back and cuffing him.

“Dispatch, Charlie
99, both in custody,” one of the city officers spoke into his mic.

One of the deputies
hoisted the suspect up and pushed him towards a cruiser to begin the
search.

A knife was on the
ground where he was laying.

“Goddamn, Hightower,”
chuckled Sheriff Lamb as he waddled up past several cruisers and a
group of officers on top of the first suspect, “Why didn’t you
just TASE the Mexican bastard?”

“I could handle it,”
muttered Hightower as he dusted off his tan pants and looked around
the parking lot, seeing crowds of people forming and taking pictures.

“It’s not a matter
of whether you thought you could handle it,” remarked the Sheriff,
his tone becoming less jovial, “If he would’ve out-maneuvered you
then he could’ve taken out your firearm and you’d all be dead.”

“Sheriff, I
appreciate your concern and I know you county boys do it different,
but trust me when I say that I knew what I was doing.”

“Alright, Hightower,
do what you want.” Sheriff Lamb gave a dismissive wave of his
hands.

“Thanks.”

Ryan turned and walked
past his cruiser to see the victim with tears in her eyes as she
stared absently all the activity.

He immediately noted
how attractive she was. She was a fairly short, thin woman with long
brunette hair, big brown eyes, tanned skin and long legs. She
appeared to be in her mid-20s. Then he noticed the large bruise
forming on her right eye. He also took note of her various tattoos on
her right arm, left leg, chest and God knows where else.

“Ma’am, I’m
Trooper Ryan Hightower with the Texas Department of Public Safety,”
he introduced himself.

“Echo,” she said
softly as she wiped her uninjured eye.

“Ms. Echo, I have a
few questions for you, if you feel up to it. We have medical on their
way to check you out,” he explained.

“I don’t need an
ambulance.”

“Obviously, we can’t
force you to be checked out but I suggest that you do, ma’am.”

“I’m fine. Don’t
call me ma’am.”

“Alright, Ms. Echo,
well can you tell me what happe-..”

“Look, these two guys
came up to me and harassed me. I told them to fist fuck themselves.
They apparently weren’t big fans of that suggestion. That’s it.”

“Ma’am, we are
trying to help you,” remarked the Trooper as his features
stiffened, “I need to take a full statement from you. Everything
you say will be submitted to the court proceedings and help put them
away.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it
will…look, I’m sorry, it’s just been a real asshole of a day,”
replied Echo as her eyes softened.

“I understand, Ms.
Echo, you can take a few moments to collect your thoughts,”
retorted the Trooper.

“You have a cig?”

“I’m sorry?”

“A cigarette… do
you have a cigarette?”

“Yeah, I… one,
sec,” replied Ryan as he turned and went to his cruiser, taking a
pack of cigarettes from his bag in the trunk that he kept there to
calm victims. He returned to Echo as an ambulance pulled up on scene.

Ryan handed the woman a
cigarette and a lighter. She immediately light it up and took a long
drag.

“You gonna have a
smoke with me, officer?” she asked, a small smile playing across
her lips.

“No, I don’t smoke
when I’m working,” he replied dismissively, pulling out a notepad
from his pocket.

“Ooh, what a boy
scout.” Sarcasm seeped from her voice.

An older paramedic, who
looked like your average small town history teacher, (and actually
was the town’s high school history teacher when he wasn’t being
called upon as a volunteer EMS worker) walked up to the couple with a
bag in his hand. He set it down and moved towards Echo.

“I don’t want
medical attention,” stated Echo as she stared at the paramedic.

“I just want to do a
quick check-up to make sure everything’s dandy, ma’am,” replied
the paramedic earnestly.

“Well, there’s an
asshole in cuffs over there who got trucked by your Trooper here.
Felt like I was watching NFL highlights,” she stated flatly.

The paramedic turned,
stroked his graying beard and grinned at Ryan, “How are you doing,
Ryan?”

“Same shit, different
day, Derrick,” replied Ryan as he shook the old man’s hand.

“Derrick, I already
have a mother,” smirked Ryan as he shifted his eyes from Derrick to
Echo.

“Well, make sure you
let your mother know I tried to help you,” smiled Derrick, the
wrinkles around his eyes creasing, “Otherwise, she’ll kick my
butt!”

Appearing suddenly
behind Derrick was Deputy Sheriff Turner Chase who was a fairly
short, young man with a round face and brown hair. Chase had been
Ryan’s best friend since High School and it made them closer to
both have pursued a career in law enforcement, albeit in different
departments.

Derrick turned and
smiled, “What do you say, Mr. Chase?”

“I open mouth tongue
kissed a horse one time,” grinned Deputy Chase.

“And this is where I
leave,” Derrick left with a shake of his head.

Chase gave an
acknowledging nod to Echo and turned to Ryan.

“Just a head’s up,
Evil Santa is here,” advised Chase, an allusion to the Sheriff.

“His sleigh already
stopped by here but I appreciate the heads up,” Ryan replied. He
gave Chase a slap on the back but the Deputy was looking past Ryan.
Then, Chase cast an annoyed look at Ryan and quickly turned to leave
the area.

“Trooper Hightower!”
exclaimed the Sheriff as he walked over and shifted his gaze to the
woman, “Well, hello there, pretty lady. My, my, you are eye candy.”

“Eat me, shit dick,”
she said flatly as she glared daggers at the Sheriff.

“Woah, feisty one,”
sneered the Sheriff as he cut his eyes back to Ryan, “The city
wants to take lead on this one and I’m inclined to agree with them.
So you can cut out but make sure you fill out a report on what
happened and send it over.”

Ryan nodded and then
closed his notebook. He looked into Echo’s mesmerizing brown eyes,
noticing a sweet coconut smell wafting from her perfume, and then
tipped his cowboy hat at her.

Echo just gave him a
quick nod as a High Creek Police officer came over to take her
statement.

Ryan shook a few hands
with the other local officers and then opened the door to his cruiser
to get in.

“Trooper Hightower!”
called Echo.

Ryan looked over at
Echo and raised his head in curiosity.

“Thank you for wiping
the pavement with that shithead,” she said loudly with a wide smile
spreading on her face and her small tanned hand moving to cover her
eyes as they glinted in the blazing hot Texas sun.

Ryan gave a small
smile, a nod and then climbed into his cruiser.

He turned the vehicle
on and then watched Echo as she spoke to the other officer. He
thought to himself.

That girl is
trouble.

Chapter Three

DPS Office

That Night

9:45 P.M.

‘Saturday Night’

Ryan Hightower sat in
his black crew cab Ford F150 in the parking lot of the Stonebrook
County DPS office for a few minutes, listening to the Randy Rogers
band play on his radio. He slowly moved his hand to the cup holder in
his truck and picked up a small tin can of dip, taking out a pinch
and shoving it into his bottom lip.

I can see you,
standing with him, he ain’t holding your hand like he should. He
ain’t listening to a word you say, he don’t look at you the way I
would. I should steal you away.

The soothing song
reverberated through the pickup like strong waves on solid rocks,
covering every corner and sending Hightower into a deep trance as he
became encapsulated with the moment.

Perhaps, however, it
was just how goddamn tired he was. His phone lit up and he glanced at
the screen. It was an ex-girlfriend calling him for the second time.
He thought for a second and then declined it.

Ryan shifted the truck
into drive and pulled out of the parking lot.

Usually, he took his
cruiser home with him but it was having a weird vibration so he
thought it best to leave it there and let the county take a look at
it first thing in the morning.

He turned right onto
Interstate 21 and drove through the dimly lit town as his radio
playlist shifted to Wade Bowen, another Texas Country artist singing
about lost love.

Ryan slowed his truck
down as he was passing The Rowdy Cowboy, a local dancehall that
always had a fight or two every weekend.

He immediately noticed
a large group of scattered people in the parking lot, drinking beer
while sitting on their tailgates or standing around as they listened
to the echoes of live band playing in the outdoor portion of the
dancehall.

Then he cut his eyes to
a group of men that appeared tense, two of whom were standing toe to
toe.

Suddenly one of the
men, whom Ryan recognized as a local named Jackson, threw a punch at
the fat man, who looked fairly young.

Then it was on and two
groups of men were pummeling each other while several women yelled
for them to stop.

Motherfucker,
thought Ryan as he engaged his hidden red and blue strobes and pulled
into the parking lot.

All heads shot in his
direction with wide eyes all around.

He picked up his phone
as he was pulling up and rang the county’s 911 call center.

“Hey Nancy, its Ryan,
send me a few patrols to The Rowdy Cowboy, I got a brawl going on,”
he spoke quickly.

“Okie dokie, Ryan, be
safe, I got a unit in the area,” she said cheerfully, “By the
way, did your momma say what she needed us to bring for the church
bar-be-cue on Sunday?”

“Nance, sorry but I’m
gonna have to get back to you on that one.”

He threw the phone to
the passenger seat, jumped out as the dust was still flying from his
truck and jogged over to the group, where the overweight guy was on
the ground holding his eye.

“What the hell is
going on here?” he questioned with fire in his eyes as he looked
around the group.

“This fat kid was
mouthing off, so I put him in his place, Ryan,” mouthed a bearded,
wiry older man in a flannel shirt.

“Son of a bitch,
Jackson, you know good and well you can’t just hit everyone who
looks at you the wrong way,” sneered Ryan as he took a pair of
cuffs from his duty belt out, “You knew that the last two times you
went to jail. Shit, you know I’m gonna have to tell your mom I
arrested you again.”

“If I don’t tell
her, then she’ll find out and beat my head in, Jackson, you know
that,” Ryan shook his head and moved towards Jackson with the cuffs
in hand.

A wavering siren became
louder as a county Sheriff’s Department cruiser pulled into the
parking lot behind Ryan’s truck, the strobes still on and
illuminating every window in the parking lot with brilliant reds and
blues.

Ryan looked behind him
at the cruiser pulling up and then heard the skidding of dirt from
boots. He shot his head back to the crowd to see one group of males
including the little fat guy running from the parking lot towards the
back of the gas station accompanied by several females.

Ryan was about to
sprint after them when one of the females glanced back as she ran.

Ryan instantly
recognized that face.

I’ll
be damned, he remarked to himself, if
that ain’t the Sheriff’s daughter, little miss Alexis Lamb.

He smiled and took out
his phone to make a very satisfying phone call.

Keller
Residence

Same
Night

Same
Time

“Wait up, ya’
fucks!” shouted Todd as he huffed and puffed.

The group tore through
the back of the gas station and jumped Titus’ fence, slowing down
to sneak onto his back porch.

“Jesus Christ,”
wheezed Cameron as he put his hands on his knees, breathing heavily,
“We ain’t going for an Olympic Gold medal here.”

“We are running from
the goddamn police, Cam!,” hollered Sarah May, who was Alexis’
best friend as well as Cameron’s on/off casual romantic interest.

“Hell, he didn’t
even chase us, we’re good,” grinned Cameron as he sat down on the
porch.

“Keep your voices
down!” hissed Titus as he looked back to see if his mom had turned
on any lights to investigate the noise.

Nothing.

“Okay, I’m going to
go make sure she’s asleep,” whispered Titus, looking at each
member of the group carefully to convey seriousness. Then, he grabbed
Alexis’ hand, “Lexi will come with me because my mom is less
likely to shoot her. Y’all keep it down!”

Titus and Alexis slowly
slipped inside the back door while Cameron, Sarah May, Dixon and Todd
sat down on the patio furniture. They all locked eyes on the dance
hall and saw there were more red and blue lights flashing.

“Todd, you talk too
much shit,” grumbled Dixon as he pulled a lukewarm beer from his
cargo pocket and opened it.

Todd laughed quietly
and retorted, “Jackson is a wash-out, I figured he could take a
joke or two.”

“A joke or two? You
roasted his truck for a solid half-hour,” grimaced Dixon as he took
a swig of his beer.

“He drives a Toyota
Tacoma, I always go for the low-hanging fruit. What’d you want me
to do?” sneered Todd.

“Hmm, I don’t know,
Todd, but perhaps you shouldn’t congratulate him for the advances
in gay marriage,” grinned Dixon as he set the beer down on the
porch.

That elicited a sharp
laugh from Cameron and a small chuckle from Jessica.

“Well, it was a fair
assumption that he was a bit of a Rhinestone cowboy, ridin’ dicks
up and down Interstate 21, Dixie,” smiled Todd as he stood up and
stretched.

The flashing lights
ceased at the dance hall parking lot.

“Lookin’ like they
givin’ up, boys,” grinned Cameron as he leaned over and grabbed
Dixon’s beer and took a big chug.

“Yeah, you hope,”
remarked Dixon as he snatched the beer back from Cameron.

The door behind them
creaked open.

“Come on, my mom’s
asleep, we can hang out in my room for a while,” whispered Titus
from the darkness of the house.

The group stood up and
slowly walked through the clean Keller residence to Titus’ fairly
large room.

Cam, Sarah May, and
Dixon sat on Titus’ futon that was in the middle of the room facing
his large TV. Alexis laid down on Titus’ big bed with Titus and
Todd sitting on the edge.

Todd picked up Titus’
guitar and strummed a few sour chords while mocking a Southern drawl.

Dixon turned on the TV,
muted it and then powered up Titus’ new game system, tossing a
controller to Titus.

“So, tonight was a
good night, ay’?” remarked Dixon as he played the video game.

“Yeah, until Todd got
the shit knocked out of him,” retorted Titus.

“Hey! I got a few
punches in!” replied Todd.

“The only thing you
hit was the air and then the ground, Todd,” laughed Dixon, “Cam
and Titus did the shit kickin’ for ya’.”

Sarah May and Alexis
laughed.

“Hell, I had fun,”
smirked Cam.

Bang,
bang, bang.

All ears perked and
eyes shot towards the bedroom door.

Somebody was knocking
on the front door.

“What the fuck?”
whispered Titus, “Did y’all invite somebody over?”

“No!” came all the
replies.

They heard footsteps
indicating that Ms. Keller was walking from her bedroom to the front
door.

They faintly heard the
conversation.

“Hi, Ms. Keller, I’m
Trooper Hightower, I’m looking for Ms. Alexis Lamb and her father
tells me that she may be here tonight.”

“Um, they went out
tonight and I don’t think they’re home yet, let me go check my
son’s room.”

The group panicked.

“Everybody act
fucking cool!” sneered Titus.

The door opened.

Cam, Todd, Sarah May,
and Alexis all fell on their sides in a very poor ploy to convey that
they were asleep. Dixon continued to play the game. Titus just shook
his head in defeat.

“Titus Hammond, why
are the police here?” asked Ms. Keller sternly, “and why are all
of your friends acting like a bunch of possums?”

“I really don’t
know, Mom,” responded Titus as he tried his best look of innocence
and confusion, “As for the second question, they’re dumbasses.”

“Well, Lexi, when you
are done being asleep, he wants to see you,” Ms. Keller said
softly.

Alexis opened one eye
and then sat up.

“Sorry, Ms. Keller,”
she offered ashamedly as she got up and walked to the front entrance.

The rest of the group
peeked out from closed eyes to see Ms. Keller look at them, sigh and
walk back to the front.

“Ms. Lamb, I have a
few questions for you, if you don’t mind,” began Ryan.

“I do mind, I would
like a parent with me before I answer any questions,” retorted
Alexis.

“Oh? Well that’s
certainly your right. Your father is on his way here now.”

“Good.”

Titus was listening
from his open bedroom door as he heard a vehicle pull up to the front
of the house.

“Alexis Nancy Lamb!”
Titus heard a loud boisterous yell that could only come from Sheriff
Lamb, “What have you done?”

“Dad, I didn’t do
anything! We went to the concert and then came back. Nothing
happened.”

“That’s not what
the Trooper is telling me.”

“He must be confused,
Dad.”

“Look, everybody
relax, I am just following up about a fight that occurred moments
ago,” began Ryan, “And I am fairly certain that I saw you running
from the scene, so it appears you may have information about what
happened.”

Titus could not let
Alexis take the fall any longer so he rounded the corner and walked
to the front and began, “She doesn’t know anything.”

Just then, he locked
eyes with Ryan and instantly recognized him.

He was the State
Trooper that was at the scene of Titus’ father’s suicide.

It seemed, from the
look on the Trooper’s face, that he made that connection as well.

“Actually,” Ryan
began as his eyes softened, locked on Titus, “I’m fairly certain
that neither of these kids are who I am looking for.”

Sheriff Lamb raised his
eyebrows and retorted, “What? You said you saw my daughter running
away. You woke me up and had me drive down here because you were so
sure.”

“I never said I was
certain,” remarked Ryan as he fixed his eyes on Sheriff Lamb, “And
furthermore, I told you I would handle it and then call you when I
made contact with your daughter and was more positive that she was
involved.”

Alexis furrowed her
brows and then went back into Titus’ room to grab her bag.

“Are we going to
jail?” asked Todd quietly as he strummed the guitar again.

“No, the Trooper said
it wasn’t me,” she replied with confusion, “Which is really
weird because I know I locked eyes with him. He must be stupid.”

She motioned Sarah May
to follow her then turned and disappeared into the living room.

Alexis walked to the
front door but waved Sarah May through so she could talk to Titus.

“I’m sorry about my
dad, babe,” she spoke quietly as the Trooper and Mrs. Keller
conversed in the open front door just a few feet away.

Titus rolled his eyes
and nodded.

“Are you mad?” she
pressed, reaching a soft hand out and grabbing at his arm.

Titus pulled his arm
away and suddenly glared at her, “I told you that would happen,
Alexis. I said it wasn’t a good idea for you to come tonight, I
knew something would happen and everybody knows who you are.”

The words cut deep into
Alexis who visibly wavered.

“Ty, I’m sorry… I
just wanted to hang out with you, we hardly hang out… much less
ever spend time alone anymore,” she muttered, her eyes averted to
the floor.